Chapter 5 of 16·6 min read·The following morning through midday
The Name on the Map
Miller came back with the road records before the ovens had finished warming the bakery.
He set a thick book on the table, then left his paws beside it. “The clerk found the old survey. I thought you should see it before I decide what to do.”
I had been sorting dried beans again. I set the tray aside, though there were still stones mixed in. The book smelled of dust and damp paper. A folded map rested between its pages, its edges soft from being handled.
Clara put a mug of tea near my elbow. “Do you want it here, or would you rather hear what it says first?”
“Here.” I pulled the mug closer. “I want to look.”
Miller opened the map across the table. He held down the curling corners with two small jars from the counter. The lines and names crowded together. Some of the letters were familiar, though I had to sound out the longer ones in my head.
“Northwest of town,” he said, touching a spot without dragging his claw across the paper. “Past the charcoal grounds. There was a logging settlement called Sootbank. The road ran by a creek, then curved around a rise.”
The name settled in my mind. Sootbank. I could not remember hearing it before. I could remember the wet boards outside a shed, and the black smudge left on my hands after I touched a fence post. Those might have been from anywhere.
Miller moved his paw to a red mark on the map. “The tower’s here. The survey calls it a water tower. It’s on the far side of the settlement.”
My fingers pressed into the mug. The warmth helped. It didn’t make the place less real.
“Does it match?” Clara asked.
I looked from the mark to the little blue line that ran beside the road. The map was turned so north faced the window. If I walked toward the tower, the creek would be on my left.
“Yes,” I said. “The creek was on the left.”
Miller waited. He had learned to leave space around the question, even when he wanted an answer.
“The road went around a hill. There was a fence. I remember the tower over it.” I traced the curve in the air, stopping before I touched the paper. “It could be this one.”
The words came out steadier than I expected. Then I noticed the crease in the map where the road disappeared beneath Miller’s paw. My mind supplied the rest: a door shutting somewhere behind me, the scrape of a bucket, a voice I couldn’t bring myself to repeat. I picked up my tea and took a careful drink.
Miller shifted his paw, uncovering the road. “That’s enough to make Sootbank the place I check first. It doesn’t tell us whether Brindle is there now.”
Next
With the old and new maps in hand, Toby and Miller will have to decide which road to check first—and how much of Toby’s memory he wants to use to guide them.
“No.” Miller’s answer was plain. “It doesn’t tell us that either.”
I set the cup down. I wanted him to tell me there was no way Brindle could reach Oakhaven. I wanted the map to have a mark for safe and another for dangerous, so I could keep my hands away from one and put my feet on the other.
Instead, I asked, “What would you do if you found him?”
“First, I’d find out who else was there and whether he had a reason to come this way. I’d keep you here while I did that.”
“And if he came here?”
“He wouldn’t get to take you anywhere.” Miller’s voice stayed low. “We’ve already covered that.”
The answer helped. It did not settle everything. I leaned closer to the map.
“Could you show me the roads around the settlement? The ones people use now.”
“I can get the newer map from the clerk. This one’s old enough that the north road might be washed out.”
“Then get the new one too.”
Miller looked at me for a second, then nodded. “I will.”
Clara had gone back to the counter. She was shaping rolls, her paws moving with a soft press-and-fold rhythm. “That’s a good plan,” she said. “Eat something while you wait for it.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Your stomach is making a different argument.”
I heard it then, a small hollow sound beneath my ribs. She set half a roll on a plate, with butter melting into its torn center. I ate it while Miller wrote Sootbank on the edge of a scrap paper and tucked it into his coat.
The bakery door opened before he could leave. A badger woman came in carrying a basket under one arm. She stopped when the bell rang and I looked up. Her attention lingered on my bare hands, then on the splint beside my chair.
“Morning,” she said to Clara. “I’ll have the oat loaf, if there’s one left.”
“There is.” Clara turned toward the shelves. “Toby, the basket’s on the floor just inside the door. Could you tell me if it’s empty?”
The request caught me off guard. I looked at the woman. She had set the basket down and was taking off her wet shawl.
“It’s got something in it,” I said. “A jar, I think.”
“Jam,” the woman said. “For my sister.” She took the loaf Clara offered and counted out coins. “You’re the boy from the edge of town, aren’t you?”
I stopped moving. Miller had turned toward the door, but he didn’t step between us.
Clara kept her hands on the counter. “He’s Toby. He’s having breakfast.”
The woman put the coins down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother him.”
I had expected the question to keep going. Where had I come from? Who had hurt me? Why was I here? She picked up her basket instead.
“It’s all right,” I said, though it wasn’t exactly. “I saw the jar.”
“That was helpful. Thank you.” She left without asking anything else.
The bell rang behind her. I looked at the front window, where the rain had gathered in long tracks. My ears still felt too open to the room. There was no easy way to make them stop listening.
Clara set a clean cloth beside my tray of beans. “You can go back to the storeroom if you want.”
“I know.” I separated a dark stone from the beans. “I’m staying here.”
She didn’t praise me for it. That helped more than if she had.
Miller stood with one paw on the door latch. “I’ll bring the newer map after I speak to the clerk. We won’t leave town today.”
“Because of my ankle?”
“Partly. The road’s a mess, and I don’t have enough information to risk a trip. Your ankle is another reason.”
I looked at the splint. I wanted to walk the route myself, to make the turns real. The first time I’d tried to stand after the clinic, my leg had buckled and Clara had caught the chair instead of me. I remembered her asking first. I remembered how badly I’d wanted not to need the chair.
“Show me the new map when you get it,” I said. “Before you decide where to go.”
“I will.”
He left. The bakery seemed to stretch around the place where he had stood. Clara turned out a row of rolls onto a cooling rack, and I went back to the beans. I could hear the front door open twice more. One customer bought a loaf and kept their eyes on the counter. Another looked at me, then asked Clara what time the post cart came.
I answered when she asked me if the bell had rung.
At noon, Miller returned with a second sheet. It showed newer roads, but there were gaps where the old track had narrowed into an unmaintained route. The creek crossed it once, then curved away.
I touched the map beside the line. “The tower was past this bend.”
“Likely,” Miller said. “The old survey gives us a place to start. I’ll check with the drivers about how far they can take a cart now.”
I kept my finger beside the creek. I couldn’t tell him what I would do if we reached the tower. I didn’t know whether I wanted to see it, or to keep it folded into a paper map where I could cover it with my hand.
“Tell me before you go,” I said.
“I will.”
This time I believed he understood that the promise mattered. I lifted my hand from the map. The road was still there, and so was the town around me. Clara’s rolls cooled on the rack while rain tapped the window.
I stayed at the table until the next customer came in.